


Hadsiestown

by escapethroughreading, Maura_Moo



Category: Hadestown, Newsies, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Dara - Freeform, F/M, Jalex - Freeform, hadestown but with a happy ending, i promise its not sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapethroughreading/pseuds/escapethroughreading, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maura_Moo/pseuds/Maura_Moo
Relationships: Jack x OFC, davey x cora, davey x ofc, jack x alex
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

A/N:

Basically all of the dialogue is stolen from Hadestown by Anais Mitchell. I own literally nothing but Alex. I wrote all the description parts though. Cora is a character from Mouse's AU and I love her. She is precious bean. Alex is my precious bean from my AU, Family Doesn't Break (which you can read on here if ya want). Hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

A woman, clad in grey. A grey dress that wraps around her form. Medda is her name. This here woman is a goddess, the goddess of travel. She is the one who accompanies travelers on their road. She is the one who loans you a dollar. The one who points you in the right direction. Now, this goddess has a message. One that everyone must hear.

“Once upon a time there was a railroad line. Don't ask where, brother, don't ask when. It was the road to Hell, it was hard times. It was a world of gods...and men! It's an old song. It's an old tale from way back when. It's an old song. And we're gonna sing it again!” I know that these are naught but words on a page to you. Silent, unfeeling. But I will do my best to describe her voice to you.

Her voice is golden. The sunlight after a long day of rain. Deep and silky like honey, gently dripping from a spoon. This voice has wisdom woven into every word. Wisdom gained from years of immortal life. This woman has seen all of time, from creation to wherever we are now. She has seen kingdoms fall and cities rise from dust. She has wisdom only gods can know.

“See, on the road to Hell there was a railroad line. And there were three old women all dressed the same. And they was always singin' in the back of your mind. Everybody meet the Fates!” 

Three men. Three men, varying in appearance and size. One fate is blonde. His eyes are bright blue, like the color of waves in winter. He goes by the name of Race. One fate has hair the color of fire. Freckles dot his face. He goes by the name of Albert. The third fate is small. He leans on a crutch, his leg bent and unsubale. He goes by the name of Crutchie. 

These are the fates that create time itself. They control each life, a string in their hands. They wield the scissors that cut that string, end that life. They know what happens in the future. They remember all of the past. They should, considering that they were the ones who wrote it.

“And on the road to Hell there was a railroad line. And a lady steppin' off a train, with a suitcase full of summertime. Alex, by name!” Medda roars. Alex is a beautiful young woman. A child of the original gods. A green dress with puffed sleeves adorns her frame, a fur coat draped on her shoulders. Her brown hair is tied back in a ponytail, curled and styled. Flowers are woven into her curls. Pinks and purples and blues. All grown by her hand.

Alex controls the seasons. She’s the one with the power to make life grow. One touch of her hand on dead soil and a forest will erupt. When she is gone, the world withers and dies. Winter comes. And each year the winter has been getting longer and longer. Alex is stuck underground, deep beneath the sun that feeds her children. 

“And if you ride that train, If you ride that train to the end of the line, where the sun don't shine and it's always shady, it's there you'll find the king of the mine. Almighty Mr. Jack!” Jack is in a clean black suit. His hair is slicked back, the oil reminiscent of his metal kingdom. His eyes are cold as the iron he builds out of, shining in the light of the sun he rarely sees.

“We got any other gods? Oh, right, almost forgot. On the road to Hell there was a railroad station, and a woman with feathers on her feet, who could help you to your final destination. Ms. Medda, that’s me! See, someone's got to tell the tale, whether or not it turns out well. Maybe it will turn out this time. On the road to Hell. On the railroad line. It's a sad song. It's a sad tale, it's a tragedy. We're gonna sing it anyway.”

Now this tale, it has been warped by time. Yes, it is a tragedy. But a tragedy with a happy ending. Some versions of the tale end in mourning and grief. Not this tale. No, this tale ends with a kiss and a homecoming. This tale ends with the breath of life.

“On the road to Hell there was a railroad line, and a poor boy workin' on a song.” This boy is tall. Thin as a branch from a dead tree. His eyes are the color of sapphires. They are hopeful, young and vibrant. His brown hair is tousled. A red bandana sits around his neck. A white linen shirt covers his chest. His pants are held up by a pair of leather suspenders. A guitar lays across his back.

“His mama was a friend of mine, and this boy was a muse's son. On the railroad line on the road to Hell, You might say the boy was touched, cause he was touched by the gods themselves! Give it up for Davey!” Davey, the one who will save the spring. He doesn’t look like much. But he has a bright light inside of him, one that rivals the sun itself.

“There was one more soul on this road. Girl, come on in from the cold! On the railroad line on the road to Hell, there was a young girl looking for something to eat! And brother, thus begins the tale of Davey and Cora!” 

Cora. A young woman. Blue eyes, blonde hair. A scar crosses over one eye. Another one travels down her chin to her neck. Where these scars are from, that’s another story. One that we’ll leave for later. Cora was kept warm by a coat, the only one she owns. It is torn and old but it is the only home she has. She has a bag, filled with all her worldly possessions. She has little other than her spirit and the clothes on her back.

“It's a love song. It's a tale of a love from long ago. It's a sad song, but we're gonna sing it even so. It's an old song. It's an old tale from way back when. We're gonna sing it again!”


	3. Chapter 3

“Cora was a hungry young girl. A runaway from everywhere she'd ever been. She was no stranger to the world. No stranger to the wind.” Medda begins. “The weather ain't the way it was before. Ain't no spring or fall at all anymore. It's either blazing hot or freezing cold. Any way the wind blows,” Cora sings. Her voice floats through the air. The words ring with truth, the kind of truth that no one wants to admit.

“And there ain't a thing that you can do, when the weather takes a turn on you. 'Cept for hurry up and hit the road. Any way the wind blows. Wind comes up!” No one can hear the fates. Not even you, dear reader. The only person who can hear them is Medda. She is invisible to all. The fates and her, they are simply passing shadows. They can see each other, but no one can see them. Humans miss the gods all the time, simply because they fade into the world around them.

“Do you hear that sound?” Cora asks herself. No one responds. “Move to another town. Ain't nobody gonna stick around. When the dark clouds roll, any way the wind blows. Anybody got a match?” A match is offered. She snaps it up and lights her candle.

“Always singing in the back of your mind. Wherever it was this young girl went, the Fates were close behind.” Medda is correct. The fates follow young Cora. They know that she holds importance, far beyond what she knows. To herself she is naught but a poor girl. To the fates, she is a player in a great story. 

“People turn on you just like the wind. Everybody is a fair weather friend. In the end, you're better off alone. Any way the wind blows,” Cora’s softly spoken words make the fire of the candle flutter. “And sometimes you think, you would do anything just to fill your belly full of food. Find a bed that you could fall into, where the weather wouldn't follow you.”

So Cora blew out her candle. And she walked. The wind attacked her on all sides yet she kept walking. Then she saw a tavern in the distance. Shelter, a place to lay her head for a night. Little did she know, this is the tavern where Davey was sitting and playing his guitar.

“Reader, listen to this. Davey was the son of a Muse, and you know how those muses are. Sometimes they abandon you. And this poor boy, he wore his heart out on his sleeve. You might say he was naïve to the ways of the world. But he had a way with words, and the rhythm and the rhyme, and he sang just like a bird up on a line. And it ain't because I'm kind. But his Mama was a friend of mine, and I liked to hear him sing, and his way of seeing things. So I took him underneath my wing. And that is where he stayed. Until one day…”

Cora entered the tavern. All eyes landed on her. Davey saw this woman, and something in his heart tugged him towards her. He resisted, trying his best to sever that string. But his attempts were hopeless. Meeting this girl was fate. And no one can escape fate, not even the gods themselves.


	4. Chapter 4

“You wanna talk to her?” Medda asks. Davey surprises himself by saying yes. “Go on. Davey? Don't come on too strong.” Davey walked across the tavern. Every step closer to the mysterious girl made him feel more determined. Then he was standing in front of her. 

“Come home with me.” Cora looks at him in confusion. Medda sighs, embarrassed for her charge. “Who are you?” Cora asks. “The man who's gonna marry you! I'm Davey!” Cora peeks around him to look at Medda. “Is he always like this?” Medda nods her head yes. “I'm Cora.” Davey allows the name to resonate in his mind. “Your name is like a melody,” he says. “A singer, is that what you are?” 

“I also play the lyre…” Davey gestures to the guitar on his back. “Oh, a liar, and a player too! I've met too many men like you.” Davey hurriedly insists that he’s not like that. “He's not like any man you've met. Tell her what you're workin' on.” Medda instructs. “I'm workin' on a song. It isn't finished yet, but when it's done and when I sing it spring will come again.” 

“When? I haven't seen a spring or fall since…I can't recall.” The years have been cold or hot, no in between. Biting snow or blazing sun. “That's what I'm workin' on. A song to fix what's wrong. Take what's broken, make it whole. A song so beautiful it brings the world back into tune. Back into time. And all the flowers will bloom. When you become my wife-”

“Oh, he's crazy. Why would I become his wife?” Medda cocks her head and stares at Cora. “Maybe because he'll make you feel alive.” Cora hesitates a moment. “Alive? That's worth a lot. What else ya got? Lover, tell me if you can. Who's gonna buy the wedding bands? Times being what they are, hard and getting harder all the time.” 

“Lover, when I sing my song, all the rivers'll sing along! And they're gonna break their banks for us, and with their gold, be generous. All a-flashing in the pan, all to fashion for your hand. The river's gonna give us the wedding bands.” The words fly through the air, promises that seem already broken. Yet Cora finds herself believing them. “Lover, tell me if you're able. Who's gonna lay the wedding table? Times being what they are, dark and getting darker all the time.”

“Lover, when I sing my song, all the trees gonna sing along! And they're gonna bend their branches down to lay their fruit upon the ground. The almond and the apple, and the sugar from the maple. The trees gonna lay the wedding table.” Cora faintly remembers the sweetness of fruit on her tongue. The thought of tasting it again is a dream. “So when you sing your song,

the one you're working on, spring will come again?” 

Davey says yes. “Why don't you sing it then?” Cora asks. “It isn't finished.” Cora raises an eyebrow, her skepticism returning. “You wanna take me home? Sing the song.” Davey hesitates. Then he begins to sing. Soft notes, light as a cloud. They grow and encompass everything, filling the room with sun. There are no words, simply a sung melody. Yet this song holds more depth than any song ever heard.

“How'd you do that?” Cora questions. “I don't know. The song's not finished though.” Cora looks down at the red flower sprouting through the floorboards. The first green she has seen in years. “Even so, it can do this? You have to finish it! Lover, tell me when we're wed, who's gonna make the wedding bed? Times being what they are. Hard and getting harder all the time.”

“Lover, when I sing my song, all the birds gonna sing along. And they'll come flying from all around to lay their feathers on the ground. And we'll lie down in eiderdown. A pillow 'neath our heads. The birds gonna make the wedding bed.”

“And the trees gonna lay the wedding table.” Cora adds. “And the rivers gonna give us the wedding bands.” Davey finishes. The two stare at each other. Davey kneels down and plucks the flower from the ground. He holds it out for Cora to take. It is not a gold ring, nor is it silver. But it’s still a wedding ring nonetheless. Cora takes it and places it behind her ear. She may not have known this man for long, but she knew he was meant to be hers. She felt it in her core.


	5. Chapter 5

Epic I

So Davey sat. And he played his guitar, strumming the same chords over and over while trying to find the next piece. It was there, just out his reach. It taunted him. A fruit hanging from a branch an inch above his head. 

“King of silver, king of gold. And everything glittering under the ground.” He hums. “Jack is king of oil and coal, and the riches that flow where those rivers are found. But for half of the year with Alex gone, his loneliness moves in him crude and black. He thinks of his wife in the arms of the sun and jealousy fuels him and feeds him and fills him with doubt that she'll never come. Dread that she'll never come. Doubt that his lover will ever come back.” 

This statement is true. Jack’s love for Alex burned as hot as his forges. And her love for Jack burned as hot as the sun itself. But still Jack had doubt. He feared that Alex would grow sick of him, of his kingdom. That she would leave him to be with the sun.

“King of mortar, king of bricks.The River Styx is a river of stones and Jack lays them high and thick. With a million hands that are not his own, with a million hands, he builds a wall.

Around all the riches he digs from the Earth. The pickaxe flashes. The hammer falls. And crashing and pounding, as rivers surround him And drown out the sound of the song he once heard.” Davey sings his melody once more. The same melody that brings life back to a dead ground. The melody that will bring back the spring.


	6. Chapter 6

“And on the road to hell, there was a lot of waiting.” Medda crows. “Everybody waiting on a train. Waiting on a train to bring that lady with the suitcase back again. She's never early, always late. These days she never stays for long. But good things come to those who wait. Here she comes!” 

Alex steps off the train. As soon as her foot hits the dry dust, grass covers the land. The cold is replaced by heat, snow melting to water the newly grown flowers. “You're late again.” Medda scowls. Alex ignores her, heading towards the waiting crowds. “Married to the king of the underworld.” Alex says. She forgot a little thing called spring, dear reader. “Are you wondering where I've been?” the crowd shouts out their yesses. 

“Been to hell, and back again. But like my mama always said: Brother when you're down, you're down. When you're up, you're up. If you ain't six feet underground, you're living it up on top! Let's not talk about hard times. Pour the wine, it's summertime! 'Cause right now we're livin' it up on top!” She pours herself a gracious cup of wine, taking a long sip.

“Who makes the summer sun shine bright? That's right, Alex! Who makes the fruit of the vine get ripe? That's me. Who makes the flowers bloom again, in spite of a man? Who's doing the best she can? Alex, that's who.” She takes another sip of her wine. “Now some might say, the weather ain't the way it used to be. But let me tell you something that my mama said to me. You take what you can get, and you make the most of it. So right now we're livin' it up on top!”

“It was summertime on the road to hell.” Medda sings quietly. “It was summertime on the road to hell. There was a girl who had always run away. You might say it was in spite of herself that this young girl decided to stay. There was a poor boy with a lyre.”

“To the patroness of all of this, Persephone, who has finally returned to us with wine enough to share. Asking nothing in return except that we should live and learn to live as brothers in this life, and to trust she will provide. And if no one takes too much, there will always be enough. She will always fill our cups. And we will always raise them up, to the world we dream about, and the one we live in now. We're livin' it up on top!” Davey shouts. 

As Davey said this, Medda noticed the way Cora looked at him. “Davey was a poor boy, but he had a gift to give. He could make you see how the world could be in spite of the way that it is. And Cora was a young girl, but she'd seen how the world was. When she fell, she fell in spite of herself, in love with Davey.” Medda spoke the truth. For Cora’s heart was now entwined with Davey’s, the way a tapestry is woven with different colors of string. 

When the party had finished and all was silent, Cora and Davey stood alone in the tavern. Whether it was love or the wine, Cora began to tell him the truth. “I was alone so long, I didn't even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold. Turned my collar to the wind. This is how it's always been. All I've ever known is how to hold my own. 

But now I wanna hold you, too.”

Cora grabs Davey’s hand, holding it close to her heart. “You take me in your arms. And suddenly there's sunlight all around me. Everything bright and warm, and shining like it never did before. And for a moment I forget just how dark and cold it gets. Now I wanna hold you, hold you close. I don't wanna ever have to let you go. Now I wanna hold you, hold you tight. I don't wanna go back to the lonely life.” 

Davey comes closer. “I don't know how or why, or who am I that I should get to hold you. But when I saw you all alone against the sky, it's like I’d known you all along. I knew you before we met. And I don’t even know you yet. All I know is you're someone I have always known.” Cora places her head on his chest. She can hear his heart beat, a gentle thumping. “Suddenly the sunlight, bright and warm.”

“Suddenly I'm holding the world in my arms.” The two slowly sway together. A music made of words and hearts. “Say that you’ll hold me forever. Say that the wind won't change on us. Say that we'll stay with each other and it will always be like this.” Cora whispers. “I'm gonna hold you forever. The wind will never change on us. Long as we stay with each other.” Davey whispers back.

“Then it will always be like this.” Cora finishes. So the two swayed to the silent music, alone in the tavern. Two lovers about to be torn apart.


	7. Chapter 7

A train comes up the railroad tracks. “That was not six months!” Alex shouts. “She's gonna ride that train 'til the end of the line, 'cause the King of the Mine is coming to call. Did you ever wonder what it's like on the underside?” Medda says loudly. “On the other side of his wall. Follow that dollar for a long way down. Far away from the poorhouse door. You either get to hell or to Hadestown, ain’t no difference anymore! Way down Hadestown, way down under the ground.”

“Hound dog howl and the whistle blow, train come a-rollin, clickety-clack. Everybody tryin' to get a ticket to go, but those who go they don’t come back.” Medda’s voice floats through the air, taunting Alex.“Winter's nigh and summer's o'er. Hear that high, lonesome sound of my husband coming for to bring me home to Hadestown.” Alex says darkly.

“Down there, it's a bunch of stiffs. Brother, I'll be bored to death. Gonna have to import some stuff just to entertain myself. Give me morphine in a tin. Give me a crate of the fruit of the vine. Takes a lot of medicine to make it through the wintertime.”

Now the fates sing. Their voices are haunting. Only those who have godly blood running through their veins can hear it. The voices of the fates stick in your head. A faint echo you can never get rid of. “Every little penny in the wishing well. Every little nickel on the drum. All them shiny little heads and tails. Where do you think they come from? They come from way down Hadestown, way down under the ground.”

“Everybody hungry. Everybody tired. Everybody slaves by the sweat of his brow. The wage is nothing and the work is hard. It's a graveyard in Hadestown. Mr. Jack is a mean old boss.” Medda hums. “With a silver whistle and a golden scale,” Alex adds. “And he weighs the cost and your soul for sale.” Medda has no fear of Jack, as she is an immortal god. Others would not speak so freely. “On the Road to Hell, there was a railroad car. And the car door opened and a man stepped out. Everybody looked and everybody saw. It was the same man they'd been singin' about.” Medda goes silent.

“You're early!” Alex yells. “I missed you.” Alex shakes her head, an exhausted sigh leaving her lips. But she boards the train, leaving the world to return to winter. “With Alex gone, the cold came on.” Medda watched as the sun fell from the sky and snow started to rain down. “He came too soon! It's not supposed to be like this.” Davey runs a hand through his hair in anger. “Well. 'Til someone brings the world back into tune, this is how it is.” 

Davey stands up and walks off with his guitar in hand. “Hey, where are you going?” Cora calls. “I have to finish the song.” 

“Finish it quick. The wind is changing. There's a storm coming on. We need food! We need firewood. Did you hear me? Davey?” He couldn’t hear her. He was surrounded by his song. All other noise was nonexistent. 

While the two lovers froze above, Alex was baking below. “In the coldest time of year, why is it so hot down here? Hotter than a crucible. It ain't right and it ain't natural.” workers pounded at the stones around them. Sweat rolled of their bodies, the only water in sight. “Lover, you were gone so long. Lover, I was lonesome. So I built a foundry in the ground beneath your feet. Here, I fashioned things of steel. Oil drums and automobiles. Then I kept that furnace fed

with the fossils of the dead. Lover, when you feel that fire, think of it as my desire, think of it as my desire for you!” 

Back on the surface, the storm had hit. Fierce snow and wind, the kind that rends flesh from bone. Sharp as a wolf’s teeth. Cora was out searching for food and wood. Her coat the only thing keeping her warm. “Looking high and looking low, for the food and firewood I know we need to find and I am keeping one eye on the sky and tryin' to trust that the song he's working on is gonna shelter us from the wind.” her voice is lost in the wind.

While her cheeks turned blue, Alex’s turned red. “In the darkest time of year, why is it so bright down here? Brighter than a carnival. It ain't right and it ain't natural.” Lights shown down on her. Blinding and buzzing. “Lover, you were gone so long. Lover, I was lonesome. So I laid a power grid in the ground on which you stood, and wasn't it electrifying when I made the neon shine? Silver screen, cathode ray. Brighter than the light of day. Lover, when you see that glare

think of it as my despair. Think of it as my despair for you!” Hades sang.

“Every year, it's getting worse. Hadestown, hell on Earth! Did you think I'd be impressed

With this neon necropolis? Lover, what have you become? Coal cars and oil drums. Warehouse walls and factory floors. I don't know you anymore. And in the meantime up above the harvest dies and people starve. Oceans rise and overflow. It ain't right and it ain't natural!” 

“Lover, everything I do, I do it for the love of you. If you don't even want my love, I'll give it to someone who does. Someone grateful for her fate. Someone who appreciates the comforts of a gilded cage and doesn't try to fly away the moment Mother Nature calls. Someone who could love these walls that hold her close and keep her safe and think of them as my embrace.”

As these lovers quarreled, the lovers above them were about to be torn apart. Davey worked on his song. Cora called out for him. He didn’t hear.


	8. Chapter 8

The snow fell in thick sheets. The wind roared. Cora was cold. So very, very cold. Fingers and toes were numb. Lips were blue. Heart beat slow. Out of the snow came a figure clad in a black suit. His hair is slicked back. Despite the cold he had no coat. “Hey, little songbird, give me a song. I'm a busy man and I can't stay long. I got clients to call, I got orders to fill. I got walls to build, I got riots to quell.”

Cora stays silent, wary of this strange man. “Hey, little songbird, cat got your tongue? Always a pity for one so pretty and young when poverty comes to clip your wings and knock the wind right out of your lungs.” The man’s voice was calming, familiar. Like she had heard it a hundred times before. “Strange is the call of this strange man. I wanna fly down and feed at his hand. I want a nice, soft place to land. I wanna lie down forever.” Cora says softly. 

“Hey, little songbird, you've got something fine. You'd shine like a diamond down in the mine. And the choice is yours if you're willing to choose, seeing as you've got nothing to lose. And I could use a canary.” Jack’s voice is smooth and convincing. “Suddenly nothing is as it was. Where are you now, Orpheus? Wasn't it gonna be the two of us? Weren't we birds of a feather?” Cora receives no answer.

“Hey, little songbird, let me guess. He's some kind of poet and he's penniless. Give him your hand, he'll give you his hand-to-mouth. He'll write you a poem when the power is out. Hey, why not fly south for the winter? Hey, little songbird, look all around you. See how the vipers and vultures surround you, and they'll take you down, they'll pick you clean if you stick around such a desperate scene. See, people get mean when the chips are down.”

Jack held out a golden coin. “What is it?” Coras asks. “Your ticket.” He doesn’t tell her what the ticket is for. She already knows. She waited. Then she took the coin. “Davey, my heart is yours. Always was, and will be. It's my gut I can’t ignore. Davey, I'm hungry. Oh, my heart it aches to stay. But the flesh will have its way. Oh, the way is dark and long. I'm already gone.” So Jack took Cora, down to his metal kingdom. Here she would be warm. Here she would be safe. 

Davey was looking for his lover. He had no clue she was already gone. “Ms. Medda!” he shouts. “Hey, the big artiste! Ain't you working on your masterpiece?” Medda asks. “Where’s Cora?” he questions. “Brother, what do you care? You'll find another muse somewhere.” Davey furrowed his brow. “Where is she?”

“Why you wanna know?” Medda looks at her nails. “Wherever she is, is where I'll go.” Medda takes a deep breath. “And what if I said she's down below?” Davey’s heart stopped. “Down below?” Medda looks him in the eyes. There is a sadness to them. “Down below. Six-feet-under-the-ground below. She called your name before she went. But I guess you weren't listening.” Davey drops to the ground. Grief tears through his veins and fills every inch of his being. A tear rolls down his cheek.

“Just how far would you go for her?” Medda asks. “To the end of time. To the end of the earth.” He doesn’t even have to think about his answer. He knows he would do anything for her. “You got a ticket?” Davey shakes his head no. “Yeah, I didn't think so. Course there is another way. But nah, I ain't supposed to say.” Davey implores Medda to tell him. “Around the back.

But that ain't easy walkin'.. It ain't for the sensitive of soul. So do you really wanna go?”

“With all my heart.”

“With all your heart? Well, that's a start.”


	9. Chapter 9

“How to get to Hadestown: You have to take the long way down. Through the underground, under cover of night. Layin' low, stayin' out of sight. Ain't no compass, brother, ain't no map. Just a telephone wire and a railroad track. Keep on walkin' and don't look back, 'til you get to the bottomland.” Medda’s instructions are true. There is no street, no directions. You just have to walk until you arrive.

“Wait for me, I'm comin'! Wait, I'm comin' with you. Wait for me, I'm comin' too, I'm coming too!” Davey sings. The only response is the echo of his own voice. “The River Styx is high and wide. Cinder bricks and razor wire. Walls of iron and concrete. Hound dogs howling 'round the gate. Those dogs'll lay down and play dead. If you got the bones, if you got the bread. But if all you got is your own two legs, just be glad you got 'em.” Medda’s voice is heard only by Davey. He’s the only one in this wasteland to hear it.

The fates make Davey doubt himself. Doubt that he can do it. Doubt that he is strong enough. But he pushes on, his love for Cora stronger than the fate’s nimbly woven lies. “You're on the lam, you’re on the run. Don't give your name, you don't have one. And don't look no one in the eye, that town'll try to suck you dry. They'll suck your brain, they'll suck your breath. They'll pluck the heart right out your chest.They'll truss you up in your Sunday best and stuff your mouth with cotton.” Davey heeds Medda’s advice. He moves as fast as he can, past monsters and other unimaginable creatures.

“I'm coming wait for me! I hear the walls repeating. The falling of my feet and it sounds like drumming! And I am not alone, I hear the rocks and stones echoing my song. I'm coming!” These words are a promise. One that he will keep, even if it kills him. 

While Davey traveled, Cora was being welcomed to Hadestown. “There are papers to be signed. Step into my office.” He says. Medda saw all of this, but she was not allowed to say a thing. She is a silent witness. “And he closed the door behind. Now a lot can happen behind closed doors. That's for sure, brother, that's a fact. But a lot can happen on the factory floor when the foreman turns his back.” she whispers.

In that room, Cora signed away everything. Her memories. Her name. Who she is. She is just a worker now, one that will hammer at stones until her hammer wears down. Then she’ll get a new hammer and start once more. 

“What I wanted was to fall asleep. Close my eyes and disappear, like a petal on a stream, a feather on the air. Lily white and poppy red. I trembled when he laid me out. You won't feel a thing, he said, when you go down. Nothing gonna wake you now. Dreams are sweet, until they're not. Men are kind, until they aren't. Flowers bloom, until they rot, and fall apart. Is anybody listening? I open my mouth and nothing comes out. Nothing, nothing gonna wake me now. Flowers, I remember fields of flowers. Soft beneath my heels. Walking in the sun, I remember someone. Someone by my side, turned his face to mine. And then I turned away, into the shade. You, the one I left behind. If you ever walk this way. Come and find me lying in the bed I made.” 

Cora speaks to the workers, but they do not hear. The things that made them human have been signed away on paper. Cora grabs a hammer. She begins to work. Slowly, she fades. The last thing she remembers is a name. Davey.


	10. Chapter 10

Davey had made it. He was in Hadestown. The workers flooded around him. The only sound was of machinery and hammers, consistent and rhythmic. The workers moved in time. Up and down, up and down. Davey ran past all of them, looking for his love. When he saw her, he barely recognized her. She was covered in dust and oil. Her clothes were tattered and worn, the same uniform as all of the other workers. “Cora.” she looks at him with confusion. She doesn’t know him. “Come home with me.”

Cora’s memories come flooding back. A simple phrase, the first thing they ever said to each other. The key that unlocked her mind. “It's you.” she says breathlessly. “It's me.” he grabs her hand. “Davey.” she wraps him in a hug. “Cora.” she hears his heartbeat. It’s familiar. Home. “I called your name before.” she utters. “I know.” Cora pulls away and stares up at him. “You heard?” Davey shakes his head no. “No, Mr Hermes told me so. Whatever happened, I'm to blame.” 

“No.” Cora argues. “You called my name.” Davey says brokenly. “You came. But how'd you get here? On the train?” 

“No, I walked a long way.” Cora asks him how he got past the wall. “I sang a song so beautiful the stones wept and they let me in. And I can sing us home again,”

“No, you can't.” 

“I can.” Davey insists. “No! You don’t understand.” Before she can explain further, out walks Jack and his wife. “Young man, I don't think we’ve met before. You're not from around here, son. Don't know who the hell you are but I can tell you don’t belong. These are workin' people, son. Law-abiding citizens. Go back to where you came from. You're on the wrong side of the fence.” Jack orders.

“Jack, I know this boy!” Alex says. “One of the unemployed?” Alex tells Jack that his name is Davey. Jack turned towards him, eyes full of fire. The kind of fire that he controlled in his factories and furnaces. “You stay out of this. You hear me, son? You better run!” Jack’s threat was clear. He’s the king of death. He can take away life as easily as Alex creates it. “No! Davey, you should go.” Cora pushes him towards the wall. Her eyes plead for him to give up.

“I'm not goin' back alone - I came to take her home!” Davey shouts. “Who the hell do you think you are? Who the hell you think you're talkin' to? She couldn't go anywhere even if she wanted to. You’re not from around here, son. If you were, then you would know that everything and everyone in Hadestown I own. But I only buy what others choose to sell. Oh, you didn’t know? She signed the deal herself. And now she--”

“It isn’t true-” Davey interrupts. “Belongs to me.” Jack finishes. “It isn’t true-

What he said - Cora-” Cora can’t meet his eyes. “I did. I do.” Davey stumbles back. How could she give up so easily? Now she belongs to Jack. The girl he loves is owned by a god.

“As for you- Everybody gather 'round! Everybody look and see what becomes of trespassers with no respect for property!” Jack shouts. The workers stop, staring at the scene before them. Davey didn’t hear what Jack said next. All he knew was that he had failed. That Cora was no more.

“If it's true what they say. if there's nothing to be done. If it's true that it's too late, and the girl I love is gone. Is this how the world is?” Jack stops speaking. “To be beaten and betrayed and then be told that nothing changes? It'll always be like this? If it's true what they say, I'll be on my way.” Jack stares smugly at him. He had crushed the boy, hadn’t he. He was no threat, not anymore.

“And the boy turned to go 'cause he thought no one could hear. But everybody knows that walls have ears. And the workers heard him.” Medda sings. Jack hears her and silences her with a glare. But it was too late. For the workers had heard Davey’s words. They set down their hammers. They began to remember. Remember what love felt like. Air. Cold. Hunger. Joy. They stand behind Davey. They join him. They strike. Jack watches in anger as they turn against him.

“If it's true what they say, I'll be on my way. But who are they to say what the truth is anyway? 'Cause the ones who tell the lies are the solemnest to swear. And the ones who load the dice always say the toss is fair. And the ones who deal the cards are the ones who take the tricks

with their hands over their hearts while we play the game they fix. And the ones who speak the words always say it is the last and no answer will be heard to the question no one asks. So I'm askin' if it's true. I'm askin' me and you. And you. And you. I believe our answer matters more than anything they say.”

The workers listen as he speaks. Not even Jack dares cut him off. “I believe if there is still a will, then there is still a way. I believe there is a way. I believe in us together, more than anyone alone. I believe that with each other, we are stronger than we know. I believe we're stronger than they know. I believe that we are many. I believe that they are few. And it isn't for the few to tell the many what is true. So I ask you: If it's true what they say, I'll be on my way.”

“You dare defy me, boy? That will be your downfall. I gave you a chance to leave. You are foolish, young man. So very foolish.” Then Alex spoke. “What are you afraid of?” Jack looked down at her with confusion. “What?” 

“He's just a boy in love.” Jack brushed her words away with his hand. “Have a drink, why don't you?” Alex stands in front of him, her hands on her hips. “No, I've had enough. He loves that girl, Jack.” Alex’s eyes are imploring. “Well that’s too bad.” He states. “He has the kind of love for her that you and I once had.” 

Jack stiffens. “The girl means nothing to me.” Cora looks down at the ground. “I know, but she means everything to him.” Alex gestures at Davey, a broken expression on his face. “So?” Jack shows no emotion. “Let her go. Jack my husband, Jack my light, Jack my darkness. If you had heard how he sang tonight you'd pity poor Davey. All of the sorrow won't fit in his chest. It just burns like a fire in the pit of his chest. And his heart is a bird on a spit in his chest. How long?”

“How long? Just as long as Jack is king. Nothing comes of wishing on stars. And nothing comes of the songs people sing. However sorry they are, give them a piece they'll take it all. Show them a crack they'll tear down the wall. Lend them an ear and the kingdom will fall. The kingdom will fall for a song.” Jack looks at his kingdom. Built of metal and iron and gold, almost unbreakable. Almost. “What does he care for the logic of kings? The laws of your underworld? It is only for love that he sings. He sings for the love of a girl.” Alex argues.

“You and your pity don't fit in my bed. You just burn like a fire in the pit of my bed. And I turn like a bird on a spit in my bed. How long?” Jack snaps. “How long? Just as long as I am your wife. It's true the earth must die. But then the earth comes back to life, and the sun must go on rising.” The two stare at each other. The goddess of life and the god of death. One defending love. One defending a kingdom.


	11. Chapter 11

The workers are angry. They were robbed of their humanity. So they begin to chant. “Why do we turn away when our brother is bleeding? Why do we build the wall and then call it freedom? If we're free, tell me why I can't look in my brother's eye?” Their voices are loud, thousands together. The metal that they mined only amplifies the volume. 

“Young man, got to hand it to you. Guess you don't scare easy, do ya? Are you brave or stupid, son? Doesn't matter which one. 'Cause it seems your song made quite a strong impression on my wife. But it takes more than singin' songs to keep a woman in your arms. Take it from a man no longer young. If you want to hold a woman, son. Hang a chain around her throat made of many carat gold. Shackle her from wrist to wrist with sterling silver bracelets. Fill her pockets full of stones, precious ones, diamonds. Bind her with a golden band. Take it from an old man.”

Jack shouts.

Davey doesn’t listen. “If I raise my voice. If I raise my head.” He yells. “Could I change my fate?” Cora joins. “Could I change the way it is?” they shout together. “Why do we turn away instead of standing with him? Why are we digging our own graves for a living? If we're free, tell me why we can't even stand upright? If we're free tell me when we can stand with our fellow man.” The workers chant. A thousands of voices, all calling for freedom.

“Young man, I was young once too. Sang a song of love like you. Son, I too, was left behind. Turned on one too many times. Now I sing a different song, one I can depend upon. A simple tune, a steady beat. The music of machinery. You hear that heavy metal sound? The symphony of Hadestown. And in this symphony of mine of power cords and power lines. Young man, you can strum your lyre. I have strung the world in wire. Young man, you can sing your ditty. I conduct the electric city!” Spit flies from Jack’s mouth as he yells. Fury rolls off him in waves.

“I'll tell you what, young man. Since my wife is such a fan, and since I'm going to count to three and put you out of your misery. One!-- give me one more song. One more song before I send you. Two!-- to the great beyond, where nobody can hear you singing. Three!-- sing a song for me. Make me laugh, make me weep. Make the king feel young again. Sing for an old man!”

So Davey grabs his guitar and he plays. “King of shadows, King of shades. Jack was king of the Underworld. But he fell in love with a beautiful lady who walked up above, In her mother's green field. He fell in love with Alex who was gathering flowers in the light of the sun. And I know how it was because he was like me. A man in love with a woman.”

He sings his melody. The one that sprouted flowers from dead ground, that brought the sun out from behind the clouds. “Where’d you get that melody?” Jack demands. “Let him finish, Jack.” Alex says softly.

“And you didn't know how. And you didn't know why. But you knew that you wanted to take her home. You saw her alone there, against the sky. It was like she was someone you'd always known. It was like you were holding the world when you held her. Like yours were the arms that the whole world was in. And there were no words for the way that you felt. So you opened your mouth and you started to sing.” Davey repeats the melody once more, this time louder. You can almost see the notes leave his mouth. The air shivers around them, alive.

“And what has become of the heart of that man, now that the man is king? What has become of the heart of that man now that he has everything? The more he has, the more he holds. The greater the weight of the world on his shoulders. See how he labors beneath that load, afraid to look up, and afraid to let go. So he keeps his head low, he keeps his back bending. He's grown so afraid that he'll lose what he owns. But what he doesn't know is that what he's defending is already gone. Where is the treasure inside of your chest? Where is your pleasure? Where is your youth? Where is the man with his arms outstretched? To the woman he loves with nothing to lose?” 

When Davey sings the melody again, Jack joins in. He knows the melody by heart. It’s a melody he once knew so well. He looks at Alex. His wife. His queen. He grabs her hand. Then she begins to sing too. The melody winds around them, reminding them of happier days. They remember when they were happy. When they were so in love. And they both realize that the love is still there. It never went away.


	12. Chapter 12

“Davey? You finished it!” Cora cheers. “What do I do now?” Davey asks. “You take me home with you! Let's go, let’s go right now!” She grabbed his hand and ushers for him to run with her. “Okay, let's go...How?” Davey questions. "We'll walk, you know the way! We’ll just go back the way you came.”

“It's a long road. It's a long walk. Back into the cold and dark. Are you sure you wanna go?” Cora nods. “Take me home.” Davey looks at the woman he loves, the one he wants to marry. They might not make it out of Hadestown alive. So he has one thing he needs to say. “I have no ring for your finger. I have no banquet table to lay. I have no bed of feathers. Whatever promises I made, I can't promise you fair sky above. Can't promise you kind road below. But I'll walk beside you, love. Any way the wind blows.”

“I don't need gold, don't need silver. Just bread when I’m hungry. Fire when I’m cold. Don't need a ring for my finger. Just need a steady hand to hold. Don’t promise me fair sky above. Don't promise me kind road below. Just walk beside me, love. Any way the wind blows.”

“What about him?” Davey gestures to Jack. “He'll let us go, look at him. He can't say no.” Davey gestures to the workers surrounding them. “What about them?” Cora doesn’t hesitate to answer. “We’ll show the way. If we can do it, so can they.” These workers deserve to see the sun as much as she does. She’ll make sure they see it. Davey turned to Jack. “Can we go?”

Jack thought for a moment. “I don't know.” He says softly. The fates whisper in his ear. A fly buzzing around his head, but he can never seem to hit it away. “Whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do now? If you tell him no, oh, you're a heartless man. And you're gonna have a martyr on your hands. If you let him go, oh, you’re a spineless king and you're never gonna get 'em in line again. Here's a little tip. Word to the wise. Here's a little snippet of advice. Men are fools. Oh, men are frail. Give them the rope and they'll hang themselves.” 

So Jack thought to himself. “The devil take this Davey and his belladonna kiss. Beautiful, poisonous, lovely, deadly. Dangerous this jack of hearts. With his kiss, the riot starts. All my children came here poor, clamoring for bed and board. Now, what do they clamor for? Freedom. Have I made myself their lord, just to fall upon the sword of some pauper's minor chord? Who will lead them? Who lays all our best-laid plans? Who makes work for idle hands? Only one thing to be done. Let them go but let there be some term to be agreed upon. Some condition Davey the undersigned shall not turn to look behind.”

“She's out of sight and he's out of his mind. Every coward seems courageous in the safety of a crowd. Bravery can be contagious when the band is playing loud. Nothing makes a man so bold as a woman's smile and a hand to hold. But all alone his blood runs thin. And doubt comes in.” Jack knew this was true. So he knew he had set a fair bargain. A hard one, but a fair one.

“Well, the good news is, he said that you can go. He did, but there's bad news though. You can walk, but it won't be like you planned. Well, you won't be hand in hand. You won't be arm in arm, side by side, and all of that. He said you have to walk in front, and she has to walk in back. And if you turn around to make sure she's coming too, then she goes back to Hadestown and there ain't nothing you can do. It's a trial. Do you trust each other? Do you trust yourselves?”

“Of course.” Davey says. “Always.” Cora states. “Well listen, brother. If you want to walk out of hell, you're gonna have to prove it before gods and men. Can you do that?”

“We can.” Davey has not a shred of doubt in his mind. They will make it out of here. They have to. 


	13. Chapter 13

A dark road winds through the underworld. Miles below ground, where the sun never shines. The only light comes from the electric city. The marching of feet can be heard from every direction. Thousands of workers, walking together. For the first time in who knows how long they look each other in the eyes. They talk. They touch. At the head of this group is Davey. Cora is behind him. Neither talk, too scared to alert the monsters surrounding them.

“The meanest dog you'll ever meet. He ain't the hound dog in the street. He bares some teeth and tears some skin. But brother, that's the worst of him. The dog you really got to dread is the one that howls inside your head. It's him whose howling drives men mad and a mind to its undoing.” Medda narrates. Though no one can see her they all hear her voice.

“Show the way so we can see. Show the way the world could be. If you can do it, so can she. If she can do it, so can we. Show the way so we believe. We will follow where you lead

We will follow with you. Show the way.” The workers whisper. 

As they walked, Jack and Alex watched. “Think they'll make it?” Alex asks. “I don't know.” Jack says honestly. “Jack, you let them go.” 

“I let them try.” Alex looks at Jack and clutches his hand. “Are we gonna try again?” Jack smiles down at her. “It's time for spring. We'll try again next fall.” Jack studies the face of his beloved. Neither have aged a year. Their faces are the same as the day they first met. “Wait for me?” Alex questions. “I will.” With a soft kiss, Alex boards the train. She’ll come back. She’ll always return to her husband. The string of love never frays, and will always pull them back together.

As Davey walked, the fates mocked him. They knew how this ended. They had woven it themselves. Yet they still wanted to see if they could make him fail. “Who are you? Who do you think you are? Who are you? Who are you to lead her? Who are you to lead them? Who are you to think that you can hold your head up higher than your fellow man?” Davey tries to ignore their voices. But the fates will not be ignored nor will they be silenced. 

“You got a lonesome road to walk, and it ain't along the railroad track. And it ain't along the black-top tar you've walked a hundred times before. I'll tell you where the real road lies:

Between your ears, behind your eyes. That is the path to Paradise. Likewise, the road to ruin.” Medda sings. Her honeyed voice drips from the sky and into Davey’s mind. A reassurance that he will make it.

The fates sing louder. “Doubt comes in. The wind is changing. Doubt comes in. How cold it's blowing. Doubt comes in. And meets a stranger, walking on a road alone. Where is she? Where is she now? Doubt comes in.” 

Davey starts to hum to himself. “Who am I? Where do I think I'm goin'? Who am I?

Why am I all alone? Who do I think I am? Who am I to think that she would follow me into the cold and dark again?”

Though he cannot hear her, Cora hums a reply. “Davey. I am right here. We are all right here. And I will be to the end. And the coldest night of the coldest year comes right before the spring.”

“Who am I? Who am I against him? Who am I? Why would he let me win? Why would he let her go? Who am I to think that he wouldn't deceive me just to make me leave alone?” The urge to look itches at Davey, but he resists. Not yet. “You are not alone. I am right behind you. We're all behind you, and I have been all along. We have been all along. The darkest hour of the darkest night comes right before the-”

They’ve made it. They’re free. Davey takes a breath. Then he turns around. There stands Cora, in all her beauty. “It's you.” he says breathlessly. “It's me.” The lovers embrace. Reunited after ages apart. They kiss. They breathe in the air of the world above, the air of life. They are home. They are together. Some end this story in pain. But the real story ended in love. I promised you the story would end with a kiss, a homecoming, the breath of life. I never break my promises, reader. And neither does a god. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! You can find more of my work on tumblr @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese


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